Now, The Wife has always been very negative about EVERY ONE of my "entrepreneurial projects". She married a P.R. Executive who was making a six figure salary and I guess that's the guy she wants around. Never mind that he used to punch gaping holes in the walls and go on hour-long crying jags, never mind that he had ulcers, a heart condition, migraine headaches, and was a prime candidate to not live to see 40 ... never mind that *I* who used to be that fucking corporate cog am a FAR happier, healthier, and SANER (well, that might be argued) person now, 87 months into no paycheck than I was when I was pulling down a hundred thousand bucks.
From the very beginning, she wanted to me to go get another P.R. job (despite the fact I was still in a hospital bed recuperating from the car crash when my old P.R. job vaporized). I did do stuff like get my C.M.P. (Certified Meeting Professional) accreditation, but at that point I was SO "burned out" that I just couldn't see exchanging one hell-hole job for a new hell-hole job, and tried to start my own company, E.P. Events. Unfortunately, a combination of factors (heck, one of the reasons the P.R. business closed down was that our meeting business was drying up), led to my never landing a "real" account (despite writing a whole string of very-well-received proposals, none of which ever got funded), and this business sort of floated in the background, doing the occasional consulting gig (sort of like my current involvement in Telepathic Media). She fought me every step of the way on Eschaton and has been constantly hostile to every effort I've made towards building my Network Marketing business, even to the point of deliberately sabotaging various efforts over the years.
Now, I have been TRYING to find a job over the past 2-3 years when things have looked bleak for the book business. But I have a bitch of a resume at this point, and (for example) I've been told by three different P.R. agencies that "they wouldn't be comfortable" putting a former senior exec in a mid-level position, EVEN THOUGH I was very clear in being quite willing to take that job. I've also had my resume "round filed" on several occasions when I've made the mistake of sending along (requested) "salary histories", again, the companies figuring that somebody who was making six figures in 1993 wouldn't "stoop" to taking 60K in 2000. I have been trying to be as active as possible in various political/cultural/religious organizations to "network", and I think it is beginning to pay off ... I have the first "real lead" on a possible JOB on the table right now. But, of course, she picks NOW to rag my ass about this.
What set me off? Her comment "it's been the same damn thing the past 8 years ... you're no closer to getting a job than you were in 1994!". Now, let me see if my recall is working here ... I have spent virtually that entire 8 year span working an average of 14 hours a day, seven days a week, trying to build various businesses, working my body and mind to the point of absolute exhaustion on a daily basis, trying to survive on 3 hours of sleep to have time for the Girls (as our daughters arrived) ... but NO ... NONE of that matters .... "I'm no closer to having a job than I was in 1994" ... NOTHING that I've done has meant anything to her. It's ALL FAILURE. It's all WASTING TIME. For all she cares, I might as well have spent the last 8 years hanging out at the Ballpark (one of the activities I had to GIVE UP when I went into this entrepreneurial madness!). And, of course, despite the fact that she took TWO YEARS OFF of work for each of our daughters ... IT'S ALL MY FALUT.
Anyway, this is what came out of this tonight. Frankly, the way I was feeling this evening, the whole "vision of horrible death" I was having before the Michigan trip was actually the Universe saying "KILL YOURSELF NOW!" and offering a clear vision of "a way out". Hell, we just upgraded our insurance ... The Wife and the girls would live very comfortably on that (gee, just like they had old Mr. Six Figure back) if I had ONLY had the SENSE to drive that fucking truck with a full tank of gas into an overpass support going 70 mph. Stupid me.
THIS NIGHTMARE WHICH IS HOME
and now this darkness
becomes required
we pass on through
our concrete fears
only to arrive
in a place of blame
and loss and agonies
here waiting unawares
perhaps the other
would be preferred
the pain of fire,
twisted metal, tubes,
and fading death
to the anguish and shame
of this darker place
which acts as home
for we are now
the focus of descent
the one whose failings
form the pattern of the day,
as all point to here
accusing us of everything,
every defeat, every loss,
every emptiness between
worst of all
all our intents
all our efforts
all our trials
are swept aside
as though we had not striven
as though we hadn't pressed
to the very limit of our strength
yes, we have no support,
no understanding, and no love;
our years of driving,
doing battle with the void,
are thrown away
without regard,
with only our failures
noted as our fate
- Brendan Tripp
03/21/2001
Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp